Here’s my first time writing a Flarf poem. Let’s see how this goes over in class tonight.
Flarf: Lust Ever Fleeting, Love Upholds
The only woman
pioneered
the lone woman.
They
never quite saw her as an equal…
The Girl,
(Art’s first punk),
continues to inspire people.
History has taken a while to catch up to her
repressive attention to detail –
Die
Die training
…And it just works.
Corrosive, cute
art form
To be wrong, awkward
in horror…
I had always felt bad
I wrote what I thought
And it went on like that
Awful poems materialized
More awkward, the “voice” in my head
The results, hilarious monstrosities
Corrosive, awful
“Cute” words
Began to pile up
Baby regrets
Mistakes were made
and moments lost
Isn’t that cute?
If I could just steal away one
tender moment from my past
and trap it in my heart
Baby
Baby
Take the love.
As hot approaches
During the hot months
There will be extended
Hatred
Regular
Hatred.
To receive unconditional love,
illicit affairs
Verify the reason
approving unconditional love.
Picking up on words
Became relatively silent –
I started a “sadness” series,
“The horrible sadness”
“The awful sadness”
“The unending sadness”
Stifling mourning!
Some are silent observers
A kind of joke among “friends”
Others use it to develop longer work.
Warming up,
Perfectly in beat
This is no church.
Sometimes She plays
with no theme
It goes over well –
She will be back,
They know how to fire up a crowd!
“Endurance, intensity, love, and discipline”
I like stories
I also like concepts,
like prayer or ‘acts,’
which means adoration, confession, thanksgiving and supplication –
“Endurance and praise.”
Sometimes Nature plays tricks on us
Fluids flowing up and down the spine
Sometimes
Sometimes,
I play my part on my stage
Sometimes my anger at the fire is evident
Sometimes it is not anger, really.
It may appear as such,
but could it be a clue?
The fire I speak of
is not a kind fire.
There is a story behind that.
There are many stories
Some of them are sad, some funny
Some are stories of madness, of violence.
Some are ordinary.
Yet they all have about them a sense of mystery…
The mystery of life
sometimes the mystery of death.
The mystery of The Woods.
It is beyond the fire
Though few would know that meaning.
Is it funny to you?
Reasons can even explain the absurd.
Sometimes ideas, like men,
jump up and say, “hello!”
They introduce themselves,
these ideas, with words.
Are they words?
These ideas speak so strangely.
All that we see in this world is based on someone’s ideas.
Some ideas are destructive
some ideas can arrive in the form of a dream.
Yes, we are ignorant of many
beautiful things…
things like the truth.
So sadness, in our ignorance, is very real.
One day the sadness will end.
Even the ones who laugh
are sometimes caught without an answer.
Yes, look in the mirror.
Poems are people
not confined
Inappropriate admissions
unlimited goodwill
unlimited!
Speak nature, speak fake
unlimited filthy love.
In a moment of being lost,
bored out my mind!!!
Considerable sensitivity towards all
Organic Passion –
A sentence,
it can suddenly happen
“Is it too much?”
The awkward position of longing
of desiring a total lack of capacity for desire…
One still has the same job in the morning.
Apparitions hover
the beautiful “character”
one searches out
occasions for laughter,
connection
In a moment of being lost in thought,
toe dance of reason
aversion to information
the entrance gates to a world of
grotesques seem to open up.
This is the connection
of being exhilarated with the feeling of doubt.
One traverses the same paths
of thought as before
Only they seem
strewn with roses.
